


More Dangerous Than Silver

by Kila9Nishika



Series: Remembering Narnia [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF!Lucy, Because they are not what they seem, Beware the Narnians, Book'verse and movie'verse meet, Don't judge a book by its cover, Mentions of Violence, Narnia was not all easy, The rebellion against Miraz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kila9Nishika/pseuds/Kila9Nishika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Gold is) more dangerous than silver.</p><p>In the year 2303 QI, the Narnians are rallying around Prince Caspian, Caspian X to-be, to fight the usurper, Miraz.<br/>In the year 1007 QI, the Telmarines learn that gold is a frightening color, especially when associated with lions and girls.</p><p>Edmund just wishes people would stop thinking that they all turned into kids again just because they no longer look like adults.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Black Spider](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/91076) by Lirenel. 
  * Inspired by [Terror Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/91079) by Lirenel. 



> This story was heavily inspired by Lirenel's "Black Spider" and "Terror Gold," which can both be found on fanfiction.net.

She sat, curled by the painted wall, her face pressed against the ancient stone.  Caspian marveled at her – so young, so bright.  How could such an innocent truly be one of the Kings and Queens of Narnia?

“They called her the Lioness, you know.”

Torchlight flickered across the chamber, and Caspian turned to see Edmund, rubbing his elbow.  Had he injured it somewhere?

“Did they?”  Caspian asked, slightly disbelieving.  This bright, lovely child?

Edmund smiled slightly.  Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he looked taller than he had, only hours before.  “They did,” he said.  He paused, his smile fading.   “She has the most trouble, of us, I think.  Oh, we all had our troubles, but Lucy was shaken, hard.”

Lucy stood, her golden hair reflecting the torchlight.  As she turned slightly, Caspian saw the faint resemblance between the girl and the painted Queen.  Golden hair, tilted nose, a certain curve of the neck and chin that was entirely _Pevensie_ –

“Edmund.”  There was an accent to her voice, one that he didn’t remember.  It sounded solemn, and vaguely like an Archenlander’s voice – not that he had spoken to many Archenlanders.  “What dost thee think, that this shouldst stand an’ stare o’er all who preside?”

Edmund stepped forward.  “Lu…”

Lucy blinked, her face falling.  “Forgive.  I just…” her eyes grew distant.  She reached out, trailing her fingers over the painted lion.  “ _Aslan_ ,” she breathed.

Turning abruptly, she left the chamber.  Caspian stared after her.

* * *

Caspian was going over some maps of the capital with Peter, when one of their Archenlander recruits poked his head in.  “Ah… Sires?”  He knelt.

Peter stood quickly, waving him up with an easy manner that Caspian wished he could imitate.  “What is it, Daris?”

Caspian swallowed back another wave of envy – how _did_ the High King remember the names of every single soldier?

The young man looked confused.  “’Tis simply… well, Pinspot assigned me to o’erlook the values that have been earned, but for all t’silver we have, nary a gold coin.  Is the rebellion so tight for coin?”

Peter looked confused.  “No gold coins… I am afraid I do not know.  Caspian, has the value of gold risen so considerably?”

Caspian blinked with surprise.  How did they not know this?  “Telmarines do not deal in gold coinage.  Supposedly, it is a tradition stretching back for centuries.  Caspian the First brought the tradition with him to Narnia.”

Daris nodded, and left the room with a hurried thanks, but Peter remained in place, frozen as a statue.  Caspian turned to face the other monarch, shocked to see him so.  Peter’s face had paled, and his eyes had darkened.

“King Peter?”

Peter shook his head slowly.  “That tradition is _still_ in place!”

Caspian sat back down slowly.  “Yes… why, was it so in the Golden Age, as well?”

Peter smiled grimly.  “Caspian, that tradition began in the One Thousand and Ninth Year From the Beginning.  It is currently the Two Thousand, Three Hundred, and Third Year From the Beginning.  Pardon, I must go speak to Edmund.”

Swiftly, he left, leaving Caspian to fight through the math himself.

Rocking back in his chair, Caspian’s eyes widened as he figured it out. 

“The tradition started in the ninth year of the Golden Age!”

* * *

Edmund looked up to see Peter sprint from the Planning Chamber.  “What is it, Peter?”

Peter looked grim.  “Have you seen Lucy?”

Edmund frowned.  What could be so important that Peter speak to Lucy?  “Try the Grand Chamber.  Lucy spends all of her free time with the paintings.”

Peter nodded, and sprinted away, leaving Edmund with a sad smile.  So much had changed, since their reign.

Edmund sighed, curling his hands into fists.  It ached and itched, like a healing wound, this knowledge of who they had once been.  For each of them, it had been pain beyond what anyone could understand.  There was no way that anyone could understand, what it felt like to leave behind your freedom, your happiness, and your _soul_ , only to return and find that they are forever past you.

“King Edmund?”

Edmund forcibly loosened his hands, and turned.  “Caspian.”  He sighed.  “How many times shall it take, for you to remember that you needn’t call me king?”

Caspian shrugged.  “As many times as it takes,” he said, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.  But before Edmund could grasp that playfulness, and turn the subject to happier things, Caspian’s eyes had darkened.

“I have a question.”

Edmund felt a wave of foreboding.  “Ask.”

Caspian bit his lip – perhaps, a habit from more childish years?  Edmund mused, but Caspian’s question jolted him to the present.

“What happened in 1009 that caused Telmar to begin a tradition of never using gold?  I never thought about it, because that was the way it had always been, but… Archenland uses gold, Calormen _definitely_ uses gold, and even Teribinthia, Galma, the Seven Isles, and the Lone Islands are said to use gold…” he trailed off when Edmund raised one hand.

Tilting his head to face the sky, Edmund closed his eyes.  “This is a tale for indoors.”

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Edmund faced Caspian.

“What you must understand, is that we all four of us had our enemies.  Well… only women ever disliked Susan, women or spurned suitors, but that is aside from the point.  For me, t’was Teribinthia and the Islanders.  For Peter, t’was the countries of the North.  Calormen hated all of us equally, but mostly Lucy and Susan, for diverting from the roles that they found proper for women.  Lucy’s permanent enemy, though, stood to the west.

“It began in the One Thousand and Eighth Year From the Beginning.  Susan, Lucy, and I were regents while Peter fought on the Northern border, when word came from the Western border that there was an invasion.  Now, being that the Western border was my responsibility, I left to deal with the invasion.

“Unfortunately, I underestimated the number of invaders, due to the fact that only small groups of bandits had ever come from the West into Narnia.  I was captured.

“According to Susan, the first thing that was done, upon discovering that I had been captured, was an attempt to send word to Peter.  Unfortunately, winter had closed the passes.  Not even our swiftest Eagle would be capable of crossing the blizzards of the Northern Mountains.  Instead, Lucy ordered that the burrowing animals carry the word to Peter.  What none realized was that Lucy had a plan of her own.

“Within the week, Lucy vanished, purportedly to gather aid from the South, but none who knew of such things in the South, according to Susan, ever saw Lucy.

“Here is where I feel I must insert, that ever since the Fell Rebellion of 1007, all but the dumbest of creatures and men knew that Lucy was the Lioness of Narnia.  The Calormen called her _Shyr az Shmaal_ – the Lioness of the North.”

Edmund paused, staring at nothing in particular.  “Su only started to panic when Lucy’s daggers and mail were discovered to be missing.  She sent out a world-wide watch for Lucy, although only our spies could search Calormen.  As it turned out, though, the search was unneeded.”

“Lucy came upon an outpost of the invaders, one of whom was bandying around…”  Edmund trailed off suddenly, his voice heavy.  “Look.”  He lifted his right hand, revealing a deep scar that circled his smallest finger completely.  “With my ring still on it.”

Caspian choked.  He had heard tales of such mutilation of prisoners, but to hear of such things from the prisoner’s own mouth!  “King Edmund,” he began, but Edmund cut him off.

“I was fine, mostly.  They cauterized the wound, and there was no infection.  But when Lucy saw… she lit ablaze.  Have you ever lit wine on fire?”

Startled by the abrupt change of subject, Caspian nodded mutely.

Edmund smiled grimly.  “That heat, the unearthly blaze that cannot be ended by water?  That was Lucy.  She, alone, wiped out the entire outpost.”

Caspian gaped.  “The entire outpost?  How many men?”

Edmund shook his head.  “Lucy never spoke of the exact numbers, but the birds have given us approximate numbers, nearing forty.

“In any case, Lucy moved further west, disappearing yet again into the Wilds.  After near a month, the word of the outpost’s defeat reached the main invading force.  The next mark that Lucy came across was considerably more gruesome.”

Edmund pushed his sleeve back, revealing a deep scar that circled his wrist, similar to the one on his finger.  After a moment of staring, the pieces fell together.  Caspian took a breath to say something – though what, he didn’t know – but Edmund had continued.

“She found my hand, pinned to a tree.  After the years of caring for us after battle, Lucy knew every nick and scar on my hand, and recognized the sign for what it was.  In less than a month, she reached the fortress in which the invasion had holed up. 

“The best I can say is that she went mad.  Every last man in the fortress that confronted her, went down.  Three men fled, and one boy led her to the dungeon, before killing himself.  I remember very little of when Lucy finally found me, other than that there was a complex metal chain woven _into_ the remains of my arm.  But the fortress remained the way Lucy left it, for the rest of our reign.  Running with blood – her clothes when she found me were soaked to the skin with blood.  Some was Lucy’s blood, most was not.  The very floors and walls of the fortress drank the blood that Lucy shed.”

Edmund sighed, rubbing his elbow.  “In the end of it all, we returned to Cair Paravel, and my arm had to be removed at the elbow to be rid entirely of infection.  Lucy went on a voyage on the eastern seas, and returned a year later considerably calmer.  Every year that she could, Lucy returned to the fortress, to remind herself of the fury, she said.

“The Western peoples began to talk of the Avenging Golden Angel, and her fury.  The country that had invaded, remembered Lucy’s golden blaze longer than any others, though.  It seems that even today, Telmarines do not deal in gold.”

Caspian’s eyes widened.  “You mean… that – then why – why doesn’t Queen Lucy hate me, for being of Telmarine descent?”

Edmund shook his head, a faint smile on his face.  “You are Aslan’s choice, Caspian.  There is no being in all of the universes that Lucy could possibly love more than Aslan.  Since Aslan has chosen you, Lucy will abide, and even fight beside you.”

* * *

Caspian tried to hold onto the story, but it was difficult.  After all, for all that Lucy was a strange child, she was still naught but nine years old, golden and sweet.

The memory came strongly, however, when Peter suggested single combat.  Her head came up, her blue eyes as fierce as the summer sky.

“Peter!  Aslan’s Mane, How can it not be but th’ snowest of ideas that thou’st e’er come t’all with!”

The council went silent, although Caspian heard one of the Archenlanders nudge his neighbor and ask, “Did you understand that?”

Edmund half-stood, but it was Susan who set a hand on Lucy’s shoulder.  “Lu,” she murmured.  “Remember.”

Lucy blinked, and forcibly swallowed.  “Yes.”  She sat.

But when the time came, in fact, for Peter to duel with Miraz, Lucy was furious at the attempt to send her off with Susan to find Aslan. 

Finally, Edmund snatched the dagger that she was waving so irately.  “Lu,” he said, “Who but you should we send?”

Lucy nodded, breathing hard, and turned to Peter.

“If you so much as _dare_ to injure yourself, I shall make mincemeat out of you!”  Each word was carefully formed and enunciated.  Peter paled slightly, and gave his sister a reassuring smile.

“Understood.”

* * *

It was only after Miraz’s death, once battle had broken out in earnest, that Caspian wondered what it would have been like with Lucy in battle as well.  Records told that Queen Susan only rarely went to battle, yet she fought better than many in Caspian’s army.

Frankly, he had expected, after truly watching Peter practice, that the High King would deal well in battle.  What he should have expected was the bloody swath that Edmund had cut, in a desperate charge to reach his brother. 

Then the trees started to _move_.  The ground itself shifted, and the Telmarine army fell back to the River of Beruna.

Caspian and his army could only follow, chasing; once the enemies had crossed the river, the battle would have to be given up for the time being.

Out of a copse, an enormous lion paced forward.  Caspian could feel his breath stop midway through his chest.  This was no ordinary lion.

Standing beside the lion, all golden curls and flame-blue eyes, was tiny little Lucy.

But there was no smile left on Lucy’s face.  Her chin firm, she lifted a dagger into the air – a warning, Caspian realized.  The Telmarine army paused; one of the generals ordered the army forward.

“It’s just an animal and a little girl!”

Lucy shook her head, and a rueful smile flickered across her face.  Her dagger fell.  The lion – Aslan – _ROARED_.

The sun broke through the chancy clouds, dying the river waters gold –

A rush of crashing water – the freed river –

And then silence.

The river Beruna ran red with blood.

Slowly, the Narnians made their way forward.  Caspian watched as Peter, Susan, and Edmund fell to their knees as one.  Suddenly hit by the realization of before whom he stood, Caspian fell to his knees as well.

The red coloring of the air faded, and golden light burst through.

“Welcome, Prince,” said Aslan. “Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?”

Caspian took a shaky breath.  “I — I don't think I do, Sir,” he said. “I'm only a kid.”

“Good,” said Aslan. “If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been a proof that you were not.”

That would be the moment that Caspian remembered as the moment that he became king.


	2. The Counting Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little poem that I immediately thought up after reading "Terror Gold," by Lirenel. It is to this story, as "Two kings, two crowns," is to Terror Gold.

Laughing girl-queen

Golden girl-queen

Shining, valiant, skirts-awhirl queen.

Solemn boy-king

Somber boy-king

Filled with justice, righteous boy-king.

Locked-away king

Captured, lost king

Lost as comes the days of spring king

‘Ware the gold-queen

‘Ware the girl-queen

‘Ware the laughing, skirts-awhirl queen

From her hands a spill of blood

How many drops to make it flood?

One, two, three…

**Author's Note:**

> Shyr az Shmaal – Persian for Lion of the North  
> From “Welcome, Prince,” to “…you were not,” is an excerpt from Prince Caspian.
> 
> A note about dates:  
> I am aware that, in canon, Narnian time is somewhat confusing. I have, in the terms of precise dates in Narnia, borrowed from CS Lewis' timeline, which states that Narnia lasts for 2555 years, the Pevensies begin ruling in Cair Paravel in 1000, the White Stag appears in 1015, and Prince Caspian becomes Caspian X in 2303.


End file.
